


Far From View

by Surreal



Category: Diagnosis Murder
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Imported, M/M, Originally Posted Elsewhere, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-09
Updated: 2013-09-09
Packaged: 2017-12-26 01:39:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/960076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Surreal/pseuds/Surreal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I never thought that someone so close could be so far from view."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Far From View

*****

_Releasing Jesse's mouth from his own, Steve leaned back against the couch cushions, blinking, stunned by what he'd done._

_He'd kissed Jesse. His best friend, business partner, all- around-great guy. And Jesse had kissed him back, with only a tiny moment of hesitation to get used to the idea that it was *Steve* kissing him, in his own apartment._

_"Damn. I--sorry, Jesse, I didn't mean to..." Steve shot to his feet, feeling as rattled at Jesse looked. "I - I have to go. Sorry."_

_He left without looking back, not seeing the absolute heartbreak his reckless mistake had caused._

 

***

 

Detective Steve Sloan's memories of the night before were disrupted by the ringing of his cell phone. 

"Sloan," Steve barked into the phone pressed to his ear, while going back to where he'd been washing his breakfast dishes. 

He heard soft, shallow breathing, followed by a weak-sounding groan. "Mmm..steve..." 

The detective frowned, shutting off the faucet. "Yes--Jesse? Is that you?" 

"mmmhmmm," came the quiet reply. "steve..don't feel good. something...need you. can--come over?" 

"Jesse? C'mon, buddy, I need you to concentrate, okay?" Steve spoke slowly into the phone even as he walked quickly to pick up his jacket and car keys, ready to go to his friend. "Do you need help? Need to go to the hospital? Are you hurt?" He locked the door to the beach house behind him and ran to his car, his cell still at his ear. 

The other end of the line was quiet for a moment and Steve held his breath as he listened. Finally, he heard, "ummm... no hospital. just...you--not hurt...much, m'okay...little blood, it's gone now, s'okay." Steve was terrified by the other man's weak words and he threw himself into his car, driving off quickly.

Steve swallowed hard, forcing himself to take deep breaths and stay calm as he drove to Jesse's apartment. "Listen, I'll be there real soon, okay, Jess? You think you can hold on?"

"Hmm? Sure, m'fine..." Jesse answered distractedly. 

Steve floored it through a yellow light. "Stay with me here, Jesse. I need you to keep talking to me, let me know you're still there, okay?"

"Yeah...yeah, m'here." Jesse paused and Steve could hear breathing over the line. Finally, his friend asked, "Don't you have to go to work?"

Steve smiled tightly at the confused inquiry. "That can wait, don't worry about it. You're more important." He listened for a response, but was met with silence. "Jesse? You still there?"

"mmhmmmm..." 

Straining, he barely heard the faint acknowledgement, but his heart jumped when it was followed by a hard thump and the phone hitting the floor. "Jesse?? Jess - HELLO?!" 

 

***

 

At Jesse's apartment, the young doctor's head was starting to clear and events from the previous evening were starting to surface. A visit, an awkward conversation and a kiss. 'Oh shit...he kissed me!' Over the phone line, he heard Steve's voice asking him, "...going to be okay?"

He swallowed hard, managing a soft "mmhmmmm..." before his vision grayed and he fell off the edge of his couch to the floor, dropping the phone.

 

***

 

"Jesse? Can you hear me?" Steve knocked frantically on the door to his friend's apartment, his heart pounding. When he didn't get an answer, he tried the handle and was surprised to find it unlocked. 

Still calling out, he pushed the door shut behind him and headed toward the living room. Glancing around, he noticed a blanket strewn across the back of the couch that was not normally there before he finally heard a small, weak groan. 

Leaning over the top of the couch, he could see his young friend laying face-down on the floor, looking like he'd fallen off the edge. 

"Damn," Steve muttered, moving quickly to Jesse's side and placing one hand on his back, the other on the pale throat in search of life. Finding a slow, steady rhythm indicating normal sleep, he relaxed just a bit. 

Jesse shifted a little, a low moan sending tiny vibrations through Steve's hand where it rested on his friend's back. The doctor shifted up on one elbow, twisting his head up to squint at the other man. "Oh, man..." 

"God, Jesse, you scared the hell out of me! What the hell is going on? You look terrible," Steve finally took a breath in the middle of his outburst. He wrapped his arm around the smaller man and helped Jesse up onto the couch, where he collapsed onto his side and curled up. 

"Steve, it's okay, calm down," Jesse insisted quietly, despite the small tremors still coursing through his body. 

"Calm DOWN?? Jesse...God, you have no idea how much that call scared me. Then finding you here..." Steve swallowed hard and laid his hand on the other man's arm, stroking gently. "Tell me what happened." 

"I..." Jesse closed his eyes, a hard shudder rocking his huddled frame under the blanket. "Something happened last night... did something stupid and...and I just needed to see you, needed you here. Needed a friend," his voice dropped to a faint whisper by the last sentence and Steve had to lean closer to hear him. 

Steve had no idea what to say, so he simply sat on the edge of the couch, gathered Jesse into his arms and held him. His hands made smooth, even strokes up and down the trembling back, and he felt Jesse struggling for control, face buried against Steve's shoulder, warm breath through his shirt. 

After giving him time to calm down, even if it was only a bit, Steve finally spoke. "Can you tell me what happened?" 

Jesse shrugged, his arms sliding around Steve's waist to return his hold. "That's part of the problem. I don't actually know... I mean, I can guess...but I don't remember anything, really." 

Now Steve was starting to get scared again. "You don't know... but you can guess?" Jesus. What had happened? 

Taking a steadying breath, Jesse began to talk, his voice somewhat shaky at moments. "After, uh, you left, I went out. To a bar, one I used to hang out in with friends a few years ago." 'Back when I knew I'd fallen for you and you were out fucking everything with blonde hair, long legs and no dick,' Jesse added in his mind. "I was...still pissed I think, from--earlier." 

Steve winced slightly. 'Earlier', meaning right after he'd kissed Jesse and ran. 

Jesse cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably but not moving away. "I don't really remember much at all...there were a lot of guys flirting with me; think I flirted back, let them buy me drinks. Never intended to pick anyone up, or get picked up." He shivered, his hands clenching against Steve's back. "Guess I must have... next thing I remember is waking up this morning on my couch." 

The detective tensed in a mixture of anger and fear. "You don't know if you went home with anyone? Or brought someone home, since you were on your couch this morning? Nothing?" 

Inside, Steve was screaming in frustration. He had suspected, *hoped*, that Jesse was at least bi. But to hear proof, details of an active sex life, threw him completely for a loop.

A sharp, humorless laugh erupted from Jesse as he pulled back, swiping a hand through his disheveled hair. "See, that's exactly why I called *you*, my friend Steve, not 'Detective Sloan.' I *don't* know what happened and to be honest, I don't WANT to know. I just--" he stopped, turning away. "I just needed you." 

Steve felt something in his chest tighten at that statement, the incredible trust his friend showed in him. He reached across, stroking his hand in small circles on the strong shoulder. He fought down the part of him that wanted to find out who'd done this to Jesse, instead focusing on what he could do for the young doctor. 

He sighed, nodding his understanding. "All right, Jess. Just tell me what you need me to do." 

Jesse's weak smile turned into a grimaced as the pain in his body let itself be known again. He leaned sideways against the back of the couch, closing his eyes. "Thanks, Steve. But now that I'm thinking more clearly, what I need is *Doctor* Sloan." 

Steve jumped to his feet, cursing as he reached for his phone. "Damn it, I *knew* you were hurt, why didn't you let me take you to the hospital?" 

"Because I don't want anyone to know," Jesse's reply was too soft for Steve to hear, as the other man listened for his father's answer on the phone. 

***

Steve opened the front door and was greeted by his father's voice. "Where is he?" 

Grabbing him quickly and shutting the door, Steve said quietly, "He's on the couch, and calm down. He's pretty much okay, and I'd prefer it if you didn't get him scared, all right?" 

Mark frowned at his son, but only nodded. He knew what he was doing, despite the initial shock and worry when he had heard his son on the other end of the phone line asking him to bring a rape kit and other specific supplies to Jesse's apartment. But he also recognized that Steve was scared, too. 

He was reassured when he approached the curled-up young man and was rewarded with a small, embarrassed smile. "You know, I bet you're the last doctor in California that makes house calls." 

Smiling warmly back, Mark sat next to Jesse on the couch and looked him over appraisingly. "Only for my good friends," he responded. 

Jesse blushed brightly under the gaze, and pushed himself up to stand. "Uh, Mark...I'd rather do this in the bathroom, if that's okay. I mean..." he glanced quickly at Steve, then down to the floor as he stood on his feet. 

Steve nodded, his jaw tight. "Right, sorry. I'll just hang out in here." 

With a grateful look from both men to Steve, Mark led Jesse gently down the hall. 

Mark closed the door behind them, setting his bag on the sink counter. He turned around to see Jesse shifting uncomfortably between his feet, his arms hugging himself tightly. He reached over and patted Jesse's shoulder lightly. "Relax, Jess. It's just me and you here, you know exactly what I'm going to do. I'll do my best to keep this as painless as possible, but I need you to tell me if I do anything that hurts, all right?" 

Jesse grunted his acknowledgement, nodding. 

"Why don't you start by telling me what you can, physically. Steve mentioned that you can't remember anything about last night, but you know you engaged in anal intercourse?" Mark worded his questions carefully, hoping that by staying professional he'd make Jesse more comfortable. He slipped on a pair of sterile gloves and took what he'd need out of the bag. 

The other man wouldn't meet his eye, instead mechanically removing his sweat pants and boxers. "Yeah. Umm...when I woke up this morning, I was really sore all over. Especially back there. When I went to the bathroom, there were some blood spots on my shorts. Not a lot, just what you'd expect with minor tearing. My stomach ached, still does..."

Indicating that Jesse should lean over the sink, Mark began his careful exam. "Have you ever had this form of sex before?" 

"Uh...yeah, I have." Jesse blushed and tried not to hiss at the light touches. "That's kind of how I knew what'd happened. I've had a few boyfriends; they're usually...uh, you know, bigger than me, and I prefer to bottom...sorry, too much info." He tensed suddenly, instinctively pulling away. 

"Sorry, Jesse," Mark said softly, one hand gently patting the young doctor's back. "You're doing fine, just relax and let me put the antibiotic cream on you; it'll numb the area." 

Jesse sighed deeply, his head dropping down between his arms as he made himself relax. "'Kay, sorry." 

"Don't need to apologize, Jesse," Mark assured him. "None of this is your fault and don't let me hear you say otherwise. Now, it looks like you had some minor tearing but no need for stitches." 

"I, uh...I'm pretty sure he used a condom, too. There wasn't any... you know, evidence, on me, or my clothes." Jesse turned around and reached for his pants when Mark finished, pulling them on over his bare legs. 

Mark nodded, cleaning up his materials. "I noticed that. There is bruising on your hips, the backs of your legs, and your lower back, probably from your assailant's hands. You'll be sore for about a week, but overall you're very lucky." 

"Lucky. Right." Jesse rubbed his palm over his eyes. 

"Yes, Jesse. You were," Mark touched the young man's chin and met his eye steadily and laid his hand on Jesse's shoulder. "You know how these things can turn out, you've seen it yourself at the hospital, and in working with Steve." 

Jesse simply nodded, looking down again after a moment. 

"Just one more thing - I need to take a blood sample, to have tested." 

Stepping back quickly, Jesse shook his head hard. "Mark, come on, I can't - we already know there was a condom." 

"You also know that they don't protect against everything," Mark reminded him. 

"I...Mark, if you do tests, they'll be in my records, in my files... people will know." Jesse protested weakly. 

"For one, it's perfectly normal for a man your age to get frequent blood tests done for STDs. Two, I'll make sure to mark the tests confidential in your files, so there will be no reason for anyone besides us to know about them, all right?" Mark held up the needle, eyebrows up in question. 

Sighing, knowing he never won arguments when Mark became Dr. Sloan, he simply held out his arm and allowed his blood to be drawn. Mark took two vials; one to test immediately for drug levels still in Jesse's system, and another to send to the lab for disease testing. 

"I'll do the drug testing myself, it should only take a few hours. Make sure you don't take anything until I call you, not even aspirin. You don't appear to be affected at the moment, but we still don't know how much of what stuff is in you right now," Mark carefully packed away the samples in his bag in protective cases. 

Jesse listened silently, wiping the blood from the puncture in his arm when it stopped bleeding. "Right." 

"And Jesse," Mark continued, just before opening the door. "You can't be left alone right now, you know that. I'd like it if Steve stayed here, at least until we get these results back." 

His first response was to protest, because the last thing he needed was to be stuck with Steve all day, especially a guilty Steve. But he also knew that once again, it would be useless to argue with the Sloans. He would just get matching looks of concern and authority, making him feel like a teenager again, and still lose. 

He was feeling steadier now than he had earlier, his mind more clear. Along with it came an image from the previous evening, of Steve Sloan's face as the detective ran out after kissing him. Jesse was humiliated then and now that feeling was returning, but he couldn't think of a way out.

"Fine." 

 

*** 

 

Steve stood from the armchair when he saw his father and Jesse walking back into the living room, dropping the two-month old magazine he had been holding onto the coffee table. "Everything okay?" 

Jesse glanced at him briefly before descending in a controlled tumble onto the couch, wrapping himself in the blanket. "Just fine," he mumbled. 

"He'll be fine, Steve. Just need to runs some tests on his blood, standard procedure," Mark told his son when Steve gave him a look. "Would you be able to stay here today? It'll take a few hours to get these results back and I'd feel better if Jesse wasn't left alone." 

Ignoring the muffled growling sound coming from the blanket, Steve nodded, moving to stand behind the couch. "Sure, I already called my captain and told him I couldn't come in, family emergency." 

"Well, good," Mark nodded, silently pleased that his son considered Jesse family. "I'll call when I'm done, Jesse, all right?" He spoke to the bundle of cloth on the couch directly. 

"Yeah, okay," Jesse shifted and uncovered his head. "Mark?" 

"Yes, Jesse?" 

"Thanks for...all of this," the young doctor ducked his head, blushing. 

Mark smiled. "You're quite welcome, Jess. Just stay out of trouble for the next few hours, okay?" 

Jesse replied with a shy smile, "I'll see what I can do." 

After the door closed behind Dr. Sloan, Steve let out a sigh and turned back to his friend. Alone again, and the scared tension from earlier nearly gone, he began to feel the nerves from the night before returning. "So...uh, can I get anything for you? Some water? Are you okay on the couch?" 

"Steve, I'm fine," Jesse cut in before the other man could work himself into a helpful frenzy. "Just tired and sore. I'd really just like to sleep, if that's okay." 

"Oh. Right, sorry. Sleep. I'll be here, if you need anything." Steve remained standing for a moment, not sure what to do with himself. Finally he sat in the chair across from the couch and picked up the newspaper on the coffee table, noting that it was yesterday's. In his rush to get to Jesse that morning, he realized he must have missed today's sitting on the doorstep. 

He got up quietly, retrieved the newspaper from outside, and came back to sit down. 

And ended up watching Jesse sleep for several hours instead. Only a few spikes of blonde hair and one strong, agile hand was visible from under the blanket, but it was enough. 

When he had kissed Jesse the night before, it wasn't in a moment of blind stupidity or impulsiveness. He had been working up to it for months. But when he finally did it, all he felt was panic. Of all the responses he'd predicted - disgust, fear, rejection - the last thing he expected was for Jesse to kiss him back with the same enthusiasm. With such *passion*. 

Then he'd made even more of an ass of himself by stumbling out with stuttered apologies. 

He shook his head hard, forcing the scene from his mind. A small sound of distress from the bundle on the couch distracted him, and he jumped to his feet. Kneeling next to Jesse's head, he lay one hand lightly on the sleeping man's shoulder and shook him gently. 

Jesse jolted awake, out of his nightmare, and away from Steve by several feet. "Jesus," he hissed, grimacing. 

"God, Jesse, I'm sorry - you were having a bad dream, I didn't mean to scare you like that," Steve held up his hands in surrender and backed away to his chair again. 

"No, it's okay...thanks. I'm just jumpy." Jesse was blushing and he slowly curled into his previous position. 

Steve sighed and looked down, clasping his hands between his knees. "Listen, Jesse...I'm sorry about what happened last night. If I'd known it would upset you so much..." 

"Fuck. You." Jesse shot him a deadly glare that left Steve gaping at him in shock. "Don't think that this - last night, or any of this \- has everything to do with you. It doesn't. It's me, all right?" 

"Jesse - " 

"No, Steve, just listen to me, for five minutes. I'm not a broken child, you don't need to handle me like one of your rape cases. I fully understand what happened last night. I needed to get out and think, to have a beer. Getting laid was *not* on my agenda, but that didn't exactly work out." Jesse snorted in disgust as he struggled to sit up. Tugging the blanket tighter around him, he continued, staring blankly at the far wall. 

"I just..." Jesse frowned, blowing out a sharp sigh. "I love you, okay, Steve? More than I should as your best friend. And when you kissed me last night, for the first time, I thought maybe, *maybe* there was a chance it wasn't just one-sided. Then you bolted and I didn't know *what* to think. That's why I went out to get a beer. I wasn't trying to get away from thinking about what happened here, or looking to get a quick fuck to release some frustration. I went somewhere neutral, for one beer, to try and make sense of what to do next. About us." 

Steve had no idea what to say, completely rocked by the admission of love. It was the last thing he expected after what he had done; he fully expected Jesse to hate him. Not out of some homophobic backlash, of course, but for not having the courage to follow through on what he started. 

And now, he knew, he would not get another chance. 

Jesse would only see any further attempts at affection or caring as being borne out of guilt. He didn't know how to convince the young doctor that his intentions toward him were not bent by the events of the previous night. 

He said the only thing he could think of at the time, deciding that anything else could wait until some time had passed; for the emotions surrounding their disastrous first attempt at making progress to settle down. "I love you too, Jesse." 

The soft, heartbreaking tone gave Jesse pause, making him look at the other man. Really *look* at him, for the first time since he got there that morning. 

The face he saw mirrored his own expression when Steve left last night: knowledge that the moment was lost, that what could be their only chance had been missed because of a misunderstanding. 

But before Steve could think of anything else to say, the phone rang. Jesse flinched, but held Steve's gaze until the third ring, then got up to answer it. 

 

***

 

"Jesse, it's Mark." 

_Oh, hey._

Mark looked away from the lab report in his hand as he listened to his colleague answer the phone. "How are you doing?" 

_I'm okay. Steve and I are just hanging out, talking. Did you get the results back already?_

"Yes, I did. Looks like you were given a pretty heavy dose of Rohypnol. Combined with even the small amount of alcohol in your system, it's not surprising you have short-term memory loss." Mark held the folder in front of him to double check, then closed it. "It's mostly trace amounts now, but I suggest you wait another two hours or so before taking anything for your headache, etc. And even then, only take something mild like Tylenol." 

_Sure, okay. Um, thanks, Mark. I really appreciate you keeping this between us._

"Anytime. Take care, listen to Steve, and I'll come by and check on you when my shift is over." 

A soft, ironic snort came through the line. _Right. See you then._

Hanging up the phone, Mark signed the report and placed a stamp on it marking it 'confidential.' He left his office, taking the report to the private file room where he placed it inside Jesse's medical records. 

Walking slowly back toward the reception area, he flipped through the schedule for the next two days and rearranged it carefully to take Jesse off the rotation. 

Now, he would have to find a way to convince Steve to do the same. Mark had a suspicion that the two men would need the time together to work out whatever it was that had brought Steve home the night before silent and brooding. 

 

***

 

Mark packed up his bag after finishing up his quick exam of Jesse later that evening. As he stood, he gave Steve a look that suggested that his son walk him out. 

"Thanks, Mark," Jesse gave his mentor a warm, grateful smile. "You too, Steve. You don't have to stay, I'm not under house arrest anymore." 

"Actually, Jesse, I would prefer it if Steve stayed with you here, if that's all right with you," Mark saw his opportunity and took it. "You really should have gone to the hospital today and you know it; you could have had internal injuries or a bad reaction to the substance in your bloodstream. I know you'd probably rather be left alone right now, but that is the last thing you need." 

Jesse looked between the two men and sighed in defeat. He just didn't have the energy to put up a fight. "Whatever. Mark, I'll see you at work tomorrow. Steve, you know where the extra blankets and things are, you can have the couch." 

"See you at work in _three_ days, Jesse. You're off the rotation tomorrow and the next day and I don't want any argument." Mark put on his best 'obey me or you'll hurt my feelings' face. 

His lips formed a thin line as he glared, but Jesse just shook his head. "Fine. I'm going to go lay down." With that, he disappeared down the hall into his bedroom. 

Sharing a concerned look, Steve walked with his father to the door. "The last person he wants around him right now is me, but I do feel better being here. It's...a long story, dad and we need more time to work this problem out between us. Thanks for seeing that, though I have no idea how you do it." 

Mark smiled at his son, a bit sadly. "A father can always tell." 

Steve frowned, uncertain if Mark was saying what he thought he was saying. He chose not to pursue it, instead simply nodding. "Talk to you tomorrow, dad." 

 

***

 

Steve could easily hear when Jesse's nightmare reached the point where he gave into the urge to wake up the sleeping man. The detective hadn't gone to sleep yet despite the late hour, instead laying on the couch and wondering if he'd completely ruined not only his chances with Jesse as a lover but also as his best friend. 

He stepped into his friend's bedroom quietly, taking a moment to watch the appealing form draped across the bed. Familiar desire stirred briefly before it was cut off by another sad whimper from Jesse. 

Remembering the reaction from earlier, Steve chose to stand by the door instead. "Jesse. Wake up." 

The other man's only response was to roll onto his side and kick at the blankets tangled around his legs. 

Steve walked to the end of the bed and nudged it with his knee. "Jesse, come on. It's Steve, just you and me here. Listen to my voice; you're safe, just wake up, okay?" 

Jesse gave a distressed grunt, then gasped as he came out of his dream and into his dark room. He looked up to see the tall, looming figure and shrank back into his nest of blankets and pillows. He squinted for a moment and rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand. "Damn it, Steve, are you *trying* to give me a coronary?" 

"At least I didn't try shaking you awake this time," Steve countered, crossing his arms over his chest. "You're welcome, by the way. Go back to sleep." He turned to leave the room, but Jesse's voice stopped him. 

"Wait," the soft voice asked. "I'm sorry, I'm just really on edge right now." Jesse shifted in the bed, sitting up against the board. 

Steve shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, unsure of his welcome but not wanting to just bolt from the room as one of his more primitive instincts was demanding he do. "It's okay, I understand. Do you, uh, want me to leave you alone, or..." he trailed off, clearing his throat when no more words were forthcoming. He couldn't bring himself to offer to stay in the room, watching over his friend until he fell asleep again. Jesse could take it wrong. Or, he could take it as it was intended - the kind offer of comfort from a loving friend.

Friend. Right. Steve waited for Jesse to answer.

Jesse shrugged slightly, not looking at the man standing in his doorway. "Doesn't matter. I don't think I can get back to sleep anyway. It's like, there's all this stuff in my head but I can't get to it when I'm awake, just flashes in my dreams." He shivered, clutching the blankets around him with trembling hands. 

Seeing an opening, however veiled, Steve took a step forward. "I could...uh, stay in here with you, of you want. Just - you know, so I'll be closer in case you have more nightmares." 

Head jerking up quickly, Jesse blinked owlishly at Steve. "You mean, sleep? In here, with me? I mean, in my bed?"

Steve looked away, a mixture of nerves and an unwanted hint of anger keeping him from replying right away. He knew that Jesse's stumbling questions weren't out of a lack of trust, but because of the events of the previous evening, in the new shape of their friendship. Now each was aware of the feelings of the other. But Steve wouldn't let that unhinge his long-established love and concern for his best friend. "Jesse, nothing has changed between us, all right? You know me, you know you can trust me to watch over you, nothing more. You do know that still, right?" 

Jesse flushed with shame, looking down at his blanket. When he looked up his eyes were bright with unshed tears. "You know I do." He held out his hand. "Come here. Please," he whispered.

Without hesitation, Steve stepped forward and took the proffered hand, then took his place at his friend's side to keep the nightmares at bay. He was warmed to his soul when the smaller man spooned back against him and welcomed the arm Steve wrapped around his middle.

 

***

 

"Not now, Steve," Jesse shook the hand from his shoulder as soon as it came down and continued quickly down the hall.

Mark, standing with his son, noticed the exchange and moved closer to Steve. "It's been almost a week since he came back on duty and he's literally thrown himself into his work. If he keeps this up, he'll be a patient himself before he knows it," he told the detective, nodding in the direction Jesse had gone.

Steve shook himself slightly, turning to look at his father. "That bad?"

"Worse," Mark sighed. "I can't get him to so much as sit down to eat something; his blood sugar has to be bottoming out." He shook his head in frustration. "He's been avoiding you, hasn't he?"

Frowning, Steve nodded. "He hasn't returned my calls. When we're at Bob's, he's just like this - strictly business, ignoring any conversation I try to start." He sighed heavily, reaching his hand up to scratch briskly at his hair. "I just don't know what to do."

Mark grimaced, shoving his hands into the pockets of his lab coat. "I'm afraid in this case, we just might have to wait for him to wear himself out."

"That's IT?" Steve hissed sharply. "Just, wait until he FALLS over with exhaustion?"

"Got any better ideas?" Mark asked pointedly with a raise of an eyebrow.

Steve couldn't think of a reply.

 

***

 

Mark's ominous words came to bite him far more quickly than he had expected. Not quite half an hour later, with Steve still in the building working on accident report paperwork, Dr. Sloan was paged to the second floor nurses' station. 

As he strode quickly off the elevator to the desk, he spotted his son jogging down the hall from the opposite direction. Obviously, Steve assumed the page was regarding Jesse as well.

"Nancy?" Mark inquired of the nurse standing near the desk.

Taking the doctor's arm, Nurse Kleine led him down the corridor toward the small exam rooms. "Seems our young doctor has found his brick wall," she told the two men curtly. "One of the orderlies found him passed out on the men's room floor. He said Dr. Travis had been ill."

She stopped and opened the door to one of the rooms. "I was under the impression that he is currently under your care, Doctor," she glared at Mark, making her way to the side of the single exam table in the room, on which lay a curled-up Jesse.

"He is," Mark sighed. "I can take over from here, thank you."

The nurse gave him a look that told him that he'd better take care of their favorite young doctor or else.

After she closed the door behind her, Mark pulled up a stool and took a seat next to Jesse. "I'm sorry, Dr. Travis. I'm afraid that I have no choice but to suspend you until you take better care of yourself and are able to perform your duties like a professional."

Jesse didn't open his eyes as he let out a soft, shaky sigh. "I'm sorry, Dr. Sloan."

Mark frowned, deeply concerned that Jesse didn't so much as give a token protest. "I don't blame you, Jesse," he softened his tone. "But it's up to you not to blame yourself. We all care about you, Steve, Amanda and I. We don't want to see you get sick. All you have to do is ask for help, son. You know that."

Swallowing hard, Jesse looked up at his mentor, tears shining in his eyes. "I think I need help, Mark."

 

***

 

Mark closed the door behind him softly, not surprised to find Steve waiting anxiously on the other side. 

"How is he?" 

"He's exhausted, malnourished. Exactly what I expected." Dr. Sloan crossed his arms. "He just admitted that he needs our help."

Steve glanced at the door, then back at his father, stunned. "Oh." He shook himself hard, focusing. "Oh! Of course, Dad. Just tell me what I need to do."

Pleased that his son was taking his role in getting Jesse back seriously, Mark smiled. "I'm going to talk to one of the staff psychiatrists, get Jesse signed up for some sessions. He's going to need us, Steve. Especially you. You're his best friend and when he needs to talk to someone, he'll turn to you. 

Steve nodded. "I know." 

Mark patted his son's shoulder as he walked away. Steve swallowed hard and pushed the door open. 

"Jesse? Mind if I come in?" He waited for a response. 

Jesse turned his head toward his visitor and cleared his throat. "No, it's fine," he said quietly. 

Crossing the room, Steve sat in the stool next to the bed that his father had left there. "How are you feeling?"

Snorting, Jesse stared at the floor. "Like an idiot."

"Well, at least you can admit it," Steve risked making the joke. He was rewarded with an embarrassed smile. "You're going to be fine, you know. I'll make sure of that."

"You will, huh?" Jesse looked up, a flicker of hope in his eyes. 

Steve nodded sincerely. "I promise."

 

***

 

Jesse put down the bag of groceries onto his kitchen counter and stepped back as Steve set down his own two bags next to it. He smiled at the detective, warmed by the care of his friend for the past several weeks as he put his health and life back to normal. Steve hadn't left his side when he needed him, and for that Jesse was incredibly grateful. 

Slowly, with the help of the sessions, Jesse had been able to talk to Steve about what had happened and how he felt about it. He knew that he was not at fault, but had needed help to say it out loud and believe in himself. Steve was always amazed at Jesse's ability to bounce back from the brink; this time was no exception. He was proud of his friend.

He knew, however, that they still had to talk about them. 

"Thanks, Steve," he said as the two of them moved together smoothly to put away the supplies. "Stay for dinner?"

Steve smiled and nodded. He moved to stand behind Jesse and ruffled his hair. He was pleasantly surprised when Jesse leaned back against him, so he wrapped his arms around the other man. Resting his chin on the blond head, he sighs. "We need to talk, don't we, kiddo."

Turning in Steve's arms, Jesse looked up at Steve, a shy smile playing on his lips. "No, actually. I don't think we do." He slid one hand behind Steve's head and pulled the taller man's head down, brushing their lips together tentatively. "I think we just need to go with instinct from now on."

"Are you sure?" Steve asked carefully. He had noticed Jesse becoming more comfortable with him in their time together recently, giving him more casual touches than normal. But this kiss, however tiny, was more than he expected after the way he had treated Jesse before this whole thing had begun. More than he felt he deserved.

Jesse's arms came up to drape around Steve's neck and he kissed him again, deeper and with as much love as he could give. He smiled as Steve moaned and tightened his hold on the doctor. 

Pulling back reluctantly, Steve grinned back, pleased at the playful gleam in Jesse's eyes. "I'll take that as a yes."

 

*****

 

End. 

**Author's Note:**

> The title and summery are lyric quotes from "Watcha Gonna Do" by Sprung Monkey. The song can also be blamed on Linsey. The story is fairly emotionally intense, dealing with darker issues and sides of the characters than I usually write.


End file.
